


To Gain a Following

by DraniKitty



Series: Tales from the Garbage Court [4]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Everybody cuddles ending, I had another tag to add but I forgot WTF it was, Possible fae manipulation, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraniKitty/pseuds/DraniKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They started as two friends, who had found a gargoyle, who had gotten attached to a human they wound up making their king. Then others wanted to join their impromtu court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Gain a Following

"10... 9... 8..."

They sat clustered on or around the sofa, Sips in the middle, Trott and Smith flanking him, and Ross between his feet, using one knee as a pillow. The New Year count down was on the television, lighthing up their faces.

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1!"

As fireworks lit up the screen and went off outside, Trott and Smith turned in unison to each plant a kiss on Sips' cheeks while Ross got up to kiss his forehead. He let out a laugh, swatting the three off. "Come on, guys, that's cheesy and sappy and... Why?"

Settling back down, Smith leaned on him. "We like you enough to risk our asses to save your life, why wouldn't we?"

"Good point." He lifted the bottle of wine in his hand. "To the first day of the first full year of who the hell knows how many as the King of the Garbage Court!" The other three lifted up their own bottles, letting out their own cheers.

They had survived the end of Saturnalia, none of their wounds proving fatal, and they got to keep their mortal king. They tipped the bottles back, drinking to the new year and new opportunities.

As they turned off the television, Sips found himself staring at his court, stopping to ponder the phrase. HIS court. These were now his family, when he'd left his human family behind in Canada, stopped talking so much to other humans beyond necessity. The selkie, the kelpie, and the gargoyle, with their human king, were now solidly his, willing to lay down their lives for him. It was, as a concept, an enigma to him that any fae would do such a thing for a human, with no material gain for the action, nor did they seemingly gain anything from him owing them a debt. It had him curious as to just how many fae would follow them.

The whole concept made him smile, taking a last drink of his wine before putting it away with the other bottles. When he got to the bedroom, he found Trott and Smith laying on Ross' arms, his tail thumping irritably on the bed.

"Siiips, they won't get off of me! They keep laying on me!"

"For your own good, sunshine, or you'll be up all night staring out the window again!" Trott looked at Sips, who had covered his mouth to stop himself laughing. "Help us keep him down so he at least PRETENDS to sleep?"

Letting out the suppressed laughter, Sips pushed Smith slightly. "Come on, Smiffy, move over so I can help keep Ross down! If we're lucky, he'll be nice and warm by morning!" He joined them, finding the right way to lay comfortably. Nestled in the pile of warmth, pinning one of Ross' arms down, draped by Trott's arm and Smith's arm, he was soon asleep, followed in turn by Smith and Trott.

Ross could only glare at the ceiling, tail thumping a few more times before it went still. Nothing else to do, he began counting dots in the ceiling.

* * *

 

At some point, Sips' things that he cared about, mostly clothing, a photo album, and his movie and record collections, had made their way into the flat. It was marginally better than his own, but not, admittedly, by much.

The bed was softer, that was for sure. It felt a justifiable excuse, plus it meant rent was easier to make.

Winter was starting to melt away, the eb of seasons toward spring and the returning songs of the birds. Unfortunately, it also meant Ross went up trees trying to greet the birds, only to get chased back down. Sips, experiencing it first-hand for the first time, couldn't help but laugh.

"Ross, you can't go up to the birds! They're busy making nests and shit!"

Plucking a twig out of his hair, Ross returned to Sips and Trott, a pout on his face. "But they sing so nicely..." His nose wrinkled. "Unlike pigeons." Vile little creatures, surely they'd been sent by Lucifer himself.

"Yeah, they're singin' like that 'cause they wanna bone the ladies." He took a sip of his coffee, still piping hot in its cup. Trott reached up, giving Ross a pat on the shoulder.

"Don't worry about them, sunshine, you'll have a lot of time to get to know the birds. Just not right now." Motioning with his other hand, his own cup of hot coffee clasped in it, he frowned at the buildings around them. "We need to find a place that better fits four people, and doesn't leak rain in or heat OUT."

Ross let out a quiet sound, looking up at the birds, then followed along. It was a fair point, that their flat, as much as it felt like home, just wasn't suited for them. It had barely been fine when it was just two water fae, one bundled under a pile of blankets. But the floor creaked in alarming ways if Ross stepped in the wrong spot, and he was reminded all too well of the time he'd gone snoping around the church's basement, years after the bombing, and nearly went through the floor. Quick reflexes and sharp claws had saved him from smashing on the floor below.

He didn't think he could manage that in a flat.

A problem with finding a new flat lay in everybody's different wants. Ross wanted something that had an old feel, like one of the carefully maintained places in the old parts of town. Trott wanted something with that had a big fireplace and central heat. Sips wanted a pool. Smith... Smith just didn't give a damn, as long as the neighbors didn't bother them.

Looming over them, many buildings boasted of great ameneties, or new appliances, but none seemed to say 'live in me' to any of them. They stopped at one of the many shops that lined the street, perusing the shelves.

Tail twitching, Ross wandered off from where Sips and Trott were, listening to the radio as it played over the speakers, bobbing his head. He looked at the shelves, filled with various things, before his eyes fell on a walkman. A sense of want and need filled him, unlike anything he'd experienced before. It was unlike the want and need of being around his court, of fingers running through his hair, or scratching that perfect spot that, while he knew he could get it on his own, it felt much better when somebody else scratched at it. It made him wonder if this was how Smith had felt, after that first time they talked - Filled with a want and need so strong, he burned a holy building.

He couldn't imagine burning the shop just for the walkman, though. Or stealing it. He picked the box it was in up, hurrying back to Trott and sips, eyes shining with joy.

Holding up a plastic crown, Trott stared at it, then looked at Sips. "You should have a crown, you know."

"What, my hat's not good enough?" He took it off, looking at the hot pink fabric decorated with the silouettes of a pair of hot orange palm trees.

He gave Sips a flat look. "That thing is horrible and ugly and undignified." He held the crown up. "This, on the other hand!"

"Isn't going to fit my big fat head." Putting the hat back on, he took the plastic crown. "This is meant for a kid." He put it back on the shelf, next to other identical cheap crowns. On the other shelves around them sat Mardi Gras decorations, in golds, greens, and purples. "Besides, shouldn't it be something I'll wear while walking around town?"

"Good point..." Trott turned to continue down the aisle, stopping when he saw Ross approach. "What'd you find, sunshine?"

Tail curling and uncurling in excitement, Ross held up the box. "I found a walkman!" He looked at it, smiling broadly. "Can we get it, Trott? Please?"

He stared for a moment, pondering if they should really get it. They were in need of a bigger place that could fit a proper table, a couch that wasn't easily two decades old, a better bed that could fit four people more easily while withstanding the weight of stone... Their needs at the moment were many and growing, looming over the want of a walkman.

But how could he say no to that face? The pleading eyes, the pouting lips that, a year ago, seemed far less human. Trott let out a sigh, unable to hide a smile. "Alright, we can get it for you. But you have to clean the flat top to bottom when we get home!" Nothing in life came free. He let out a surprised sound as he was all but crushed in a hug.

"Thank you, Trott!" Ross was practically bouncing as he let go, turning the box over and over, smile broad on his face.

Sips chuckled as he finished off his coffee, then went over to a rack full of cassettes. "Can't have a walkman without music!" He flicked through the little plastic boxes, neatly wrapped in celophane. Finally, he picked one out. "Duran Duran'll do."

Peeking over his shoulder, Ross' brow furrowed in thought, before he nodded. "I like their music when it comes on the radio." Though really, he liked most music. But as a starting point for him having his own portable music, it worked well enough.

* * *

 

As Smith walked in, he was greeted by Ross darting by with the vacuum, headphones on and doing some little dance. He stopped to watch, then started toward the kitchen. A deep and gutteral growl made him freeze, staring at Ross with wide eyes. "What?!"

"Shoes off! I JUST vacuumed there!"

Hopping backward and into the door, Smith worked his boots off, leaving them by the door as he walked through the flat. Reaching around Sips for a bell pepper he was cutting up, he frowned, "What's gotten into Ross? OW!" He retracted his hand, shaking it after a smack from Sips.

"Trott got him a walkman on the stipulation he cleaned the flat." He motioned around the spotless kitchen. "So be careful. Why?"

"He GROWLED at me!" He glanced back into the living room, where Ross had finished vacuuming, moving on to cleaning the coffee table off. "Last time he did that, I was trying to get him in the shower for the first time."

Dumping the chopped bell peppers into the pan, Sips glanced at Smith. "After burning down his church?"

"Yeah, he thought it'd be like rain. Now the problem's getting him OUT once he's IN..." If there was one thing Smith had found Ross loved, it was being warm. Not that any of them could complain, Ross giving off heat post-shower was a euphoric sensation to press up against. "So what's for dinner?"

"Oh, just something of a comfort food." He stirred the pan's contents, listening to the sizzle underscored by Ross occasionally bursting out in song with his tape.

He let out a hum, then went to dig in the fridge. "By the way, there was some guy outside, says he wants an audience with the king."

Sips glanced over, one eyebrow up. "Okay... Why?"

"Didn't say. Told him he had to wait for Trott, we're not letting anybody in without a unanimous vote." He stood up, opening a coke bottle. "No coming in our flat without a unanimous vote and all that."

As he continued to cook, Sips could only let out a hum, listening as Smith left the room. His mind ticked over the idea that somebody wanted to see him, wondering just who it could be and why. They couldn't be human, humans didn't really seem to know yet that the Garbage Court had a human king. Whoever it was had to be fae. But then, why would a fae want to see him? His boys not withstanding.

He gave a mental pause. His boys. When had he started thinking of the three as his boys? Probably about the time they risked their asses for him. Or maybe... Really, he wasn't sure, and he quickly stopped caring about figuring out just when it was. He put the lid on the pot, letting it simmer as he wandered to sink into the sofa next to Smith.

When Trott walked up to the building, he was stopped by a man with a beard that reminded him of that show he caught Smith watching now and then.

"Excuse me, selkie!"

If looks could have killed... Trott gave him the darkest glare he could muster. "I do not go by SELKIE, I go by TROTT. Who are you and what do you want?" There wasn't a doubt in his mind that this person was inhuman.

Whatever he was, he was taken aback by the sharp bite to Trott's tone. "Call me Turps." He motioned up the road. "I co-own the pub up the road, the Crooked Caber."

He rolled his eyes. "Peachy to meet you, Turps, but what do you WANT?"

"Well, we've been avoiding the courts of the city, my business partner and I-"

"Wonderful to hear, congratulations to both of you." He started to go into the building, stopping when his arm was grabbed. Trott's fingers flexed on the handle, eyes narrowing at the door.

Turps pulled him back, frowning. "We want to join your court!"

It was Trott's turn to be taken aback, letting the door go as he turned to stare in surprise. "What?"

Letting Trott's arm go, Turps ran his hands through his hair. "We've been avoiding the courts of the city and joining them, because the small ones amount to nothing and are gone in the blink of an eye, and the big ones are all tied together. But yours is the first start-up we think has a chance of growing."

Trott was thoughtful, chewing his lip as he looked at the door. Finally, he looked back. "We know your pub, Sips goes there all the time. Damn good pizza. I'll talk to the others, see what they say."

Clasping one of Trott's hands, Turps was all grins. "Thank you! We have very high hopes!" He let go, waving as he hurried walked down the road. Trott watched his back grow smaller, then turned and went in.

When he walked in, he was greeted by the smell of food cooking and the sound of the television as Sips, Ross, and Smith watched their future space program. "This show again? Aren't you tired of it yet?" He slid his shoes off, hanging his coat by the door.

Smith simply flipped Trott off. "I'll have you know, Star Trek is a great program!"

"So you say..." He went over, trying to wedge himself between Smith and Sips. His only accomplishment was ending up sitting across both their laps. "One of the owners of the Crooked Caber stopped me on my way in, says him and his business partner want to join the Garbage Court."

At their feet, Ross turned and looked at Trott in confusion. "Somebody actually wants to join our court? Why OURS?"

"Because we had the balls, sunshine." He leaned over, taking the remote. "Now let's put it on some actual GOOD programming!"

"Trottimus, I swear on the rivers and seas if you change that channel, I'm leaving you hog-tied on the big horned shitlord's doorstep with a big red bow!" Smith reached up, trying to use his longer limbs to his advantage. Trott only grinned and held the remote away, leaning back to keep it out of reach.

"Not on your life, Smith!"

Sips could only lean back as much as the sofa allowed, a grin on his face. "Hey, now, your battleground for the remote is MY lap!"

All three let out surprised sounds as Ross got up, grabbing the remote. "Mine now!"

In the flat below them, the neighbors could only grumble as the whole contingent ran around, yelling about the remote.

* * *

 

They had thought Turps approaching had been a fluke, a random one-off instance of two fae wanting to join their court. It had only been the start.

Trott sat at the kitchen table, elbows on it and hands threaded through his hair as he stared at the pile of letters. The front door opened, the sound of Smith's and Ross' footfalls reaching his ears, though he didn't look up. "Let me guess, MORE letters from fae wanting to join our court." He jumped as a sack was dropped on the table, eyes widening.

"The postman thinks we're Santa Clause the way we're starting to get mail." Untying the sack, Smith picked it back up to turn it over. "We're fast on our way to becoming more powerful than the shitlords."

He could only stare at the pile, mouth stretching in a grimace. "But how many would be LOYAL?" How many fae would see their mortal king and still pledge undying loyalty to them? Would be willing to lay their lives on the line for him? He looked over at Ross, who had his hands shoved in his pockets. "Only one sack, then? Good." He got up, taking his glasses off. "I've been staring at these too long, I need a drink." He motioned between the pair. "You two deal with this, I'M going down to the Crooked Caber."

"Wait, what?" Smith started to follow, only to get stopped by a dark look. "Why are WE going through these all? I had to carry them up here!"

Trott pulled his jacket on, letting out a huff. "Because I've been staring at them for hours. Have fun!" He didn't wait for any more protests, closing and locking the door behind him. Both Ross and Smith stared after, before looking at each other.

Giving Smith a pat on the back, Ross went walking to the bedroom. "Well, you have fun with that, Smith, I'M taking a-" His last word was cut off as Smith caught the ring in the end of his tail, yanking him back. "Oi!"

"Oh no!" He pulled Ross over, turning him and shoving him at the table. "I am NOT doing this alone! You get that tightly-sculpted arse back here!"

He let out a huff, yanking his tail away. "Fine, fine, but don't PULL on that again! You don't see me pulling YOUR tail!"

"Mate, you'd have to catch me WITH a tail." He paused, then grinned. "That said, Trott's pulled it a few times."

Sitting on the floor, Ross could only make a face. "You have strange kinks." Why would anybody WANT their tail pulled on? It hurt, and what if something got broken?

"Whatever you say." He sat down, shoving some of the envelopes off the table onto Ross before picking one up.

In short order they figured out that a lot of the volume was repeated requests from the same fae. The individual requests were stacked on the table, the rest making up stacks on the floor. Ross looked at them all, then closed his eyes. "This is not nearly as many as it looked before."

Opening one of the more individual items, Smith let out a hum. "No, they's not... This one's a witch." His eyebrows had gone up, staring at the letter. He set it aside, then grabbed another. Ross had soon joined him, sorting the letters between witches and fae, and while the vast majority were fae, three were still witches.

Letting out a hum, Ross curled his tail around Smith's leg. "I think it's time for us to go get a drink, too. Did we want to wait for Sips?"

"Yeah, sounds like a plan." Looking at one of the stacks on the floor, Smith grabbed an envelope at random, opening it. "Never thought I'd be doing this."

"Why not?" Ross grabbed an envelope, using his tail barb to open it up. A quick read, and it was added to a pile Smith had started for potential hopefuls.

Hearing a key click in the lock, Smith stretched out. "Kelpies don't usually join courts, mate. We're independent by nature."

Tail tapping the floor, Ross' brow furrowed. "But... You live with three other people. That's not independent."

He gave a shrug. "Kelpies aren't usually anything but gray or black with a hint of green, and I'm sure as hell neither of those." Ross could only watch, head tilted to the side, as he went over and all but leaned on Sips, vanishing to the bedroom with him.

Several minutes and a short walk later, they opened the door to the pub. Trott was already at the table they'd sat at the last visit, hands on a single lonely mug. Most of its contents were still in it. Smith took a seat beside him, one arm draping across his back. "Most of that mail is duplicates. Few good candidates, though!"

"Good, wonderful. We still don't know a damn thing about running a real court."

Sinking to the floor on Trott's other side, Ross leaned his cheek on his thigh. "I thought we WERE a real court. We have at least three members, and somebody in charge..." He paused, gaze flicking to look over the top of the table at Sips. "What DO you do all day?"

"I'm a boring guy in an office, just another pencil pusher." He leaned back slightly in his seat. "Bottom of the rungs, too. And I don't know a damn thing about leading anybody, wasn't even captain on my peewee hockey team as a kid."

There was some silence between them, Trott still staring at his mug. Finally, he passed it down to Ross. "Sometimes I think I should have stayed in that damn sea... What impact can any of us make at this point with the big courts all pre-established centuries ago?"

Smith sat up, something passing across his face that neither Sips nor Ross could quite identify yet. "None of us would be here if you hadn't, though!" He reached over, grasping Trott's hand. "I'd sat on a few beaches as a foal and watched ocean fae, but none came up because I'm river fae. You were the first and only, and I don't ever want you to doubt the impact anybody has on this world. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have had a friend to give me incentive to leave the moores. If I'd never left the moores, I wouldn't have been in any position to find Ross' church and Ross in it, let alone free him from it, and he'd still be sitting there guarding an abandoned building as it rotted away!"

On the other side of him, Sips nodded along. "I'd probably still be moping around and bowling. That or dead." His leg stretched out, foot finding and toying with the leg of Trott's trousers. "Look, Trott, don't worry. We'll figure this out. But now I'm curious about something." At the quizical look he got, he pointed between the three. "Looking at how your lives've been since meeting each other, would you ever go back to the lives you'd lived before?"

There was a silence, before Trott pointed to Smith. "He's the only one that CAN go back. Ross' church is gone, and I'm branded a deserter."

"My point is, if you COULD go back, WOULD you?"

Ross reached up, setting the mug on the table. "Not in a million years." He paused, then inclined his head. "And I may even still be here in a million years."

Trott stared off to the side in thought, then smiled. "No, don't think I would, either. I'd hate to go back to being the runt of the herd with no prospects, but here..."

Resting his cheek on Trott's leg again, Ross couldn't help smiling. "Here, you have natural control over a wild kelpie and a wayward gargoyle."

Grabbing the half-empty mug, Smith lifted it in agreement. "Don't need my bridle, you give me direction and I embrace that." In a quick go, he finished off the beer, then set the mug down. "Still don't know how you can drink this glorified piss water, though."

From the bar, the bartender, Ravs, let out a good-natured, "Oi! Just because you're a snob about beer doesn't mean everybody is!"

Smith gave a wave, grinning over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, I still don't like it!" He turned back to the table, tapping his fingers on it. "Well... Do we know anybody who knows anything much about courts?"

A head poked out of the door behind the bar, before Turps stepped out. "I know plenty about courts!"

They all turned to him, surprise across their faces. Shifting in his chair, Sips rested one arm on the table. "What do you know, Turps? And if I can pry, why?"

He walked up to the table, thumbs in imaginary suspenders. "I was in a court, years ago!"

"And which court," Trott asked, "Was that?" He got a flat look in response.

"Given the structure of the courts in this city, it'd be hard to NOT say the Storm Sage's court." He pulled a chair around, sitting on it so he straddled it, arms crossed on the back. "Drew me in with a promise of helping me, never did. I got out on a technicality, because I was never actually in his debt since he never actually did anything for me."

Something flickered across Trott's face, something Sips barely noticed, before he reached over and gave Turps a pat on the shoulder. "Don't know if he can help with that, mate."

"Don't think anybody can, frankly. But the point is, I know how courts work. I'm not asking to be sidhe lord, don't want that. I'd rather stick to the background. So I got a deal for you."

"And that is?"

"Ravsy and I get to join your court, I'll help you with it, learn how to do it. Sound fair?"

Trott leaned back in thought, before looking at Smith. "What do you think?"

Smith gave a shrug, "I'm game for it. Ross?"

His tail tapped the floor in consideration, before Ross nodded. "It sounds fair to me."

"Doesn't sound fair to me, though." All eyes turned to Sips. He tilted his hat back, frowning. "Even exchange means you bartering to help us for entry only covers YOU joining, not you AND Ravsy." He looked over at the bar, where Ravs was watching intently. "IF fae are joining by doing work in exchange, he'd have to do his own to get in, and it doesn't feel fair to make people work to enter a court. How's that better than tricking people into a debt they can't pay off?"

Resting his elbows on the table, hands laced together and chin on top of them, Trott couldn't help but smile. "You make a very valid point, Sips." He glanced at Turps. "We're not about debt, not like that. Not how selkies work, and kelpies don't care for debt." He didn't need to explain why Ross and Sips wouldn't care about it. "But you DO both have good points in your favor."

"And those are?"

"Well for one thing, Ravs is the best damn bartender we've found in this city." The food was also good, with little else comparing. "For another, there's the fact you know how a court WORKS." Trott's gaze flickered back to Sips. "Your call."

"I'm good with them joining." He turned to Turps, offering his hand. "Welcome to the Garbage Court, you two are our first initiates!"

"Can we throw a party to celebrate?" Ross peeked over the table, then stood up so he'd stop having to. "There's an old building down by the river we could use! It's not in any territory that I'm aware of..." There was a beat of silence before all eyes turned to Ross. He glanced between everybody, confusion setting in. "What?"

Trott grinned up at him, "Ross, you're a bloody genius!" He slapped the table before standing up. "We'll throw a big rave, scope everything out from there." He looked over at Ravs and Turps, grin still big on his face. "Are you two up for earning extra money?"

* * *

 

The building had once been a factory of some sort, used back during the war effort. Any machinery in it had long been removed, the signs of what it used to be long gone. There was no second floor, but that didn't matter to them. It was their first foray into throwing a party, and for their needs it would serve its purpose. It sat in nobody's territory, claimed by no court and no sidhe lord.

As they walked inside, Ross and Trott looked around. Steel beams rose out of the floor to the ceiling, painted white and in two parallel lines, with one long succession of steel beams running the length near the roof. Testingly, Ross reached up and grabbed first a beam out of the floor, then climbed up to one running the length of the building. No blackness covered his hands. They were safe for fae to touch.

Letting out a quiet whistle, Trott ran a palm over one of the beams. "How did you ever find this place, Ross?"

He gave an impassive shrug, hands vanishing into his pockets. "Smith likes to come out this way sometimes, I come with him to explore. Found it when we were out here last."

"Well," Trott hummed, "I think it'll do just fine for our purposes. Hook a generator up outside, string some lights around these beams..." He lifted a hand, tracing a path with one finger. "Think we can find some strobe lights or something to hang up here."

Ross stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully, then looked at the walls. "Why not paint the walls all black, and then do neon colors on top? Black light it all."

Trott shook his head, frowning more to himself. "No, don't want to put too much effort in." He looked around again, then went to one corner. "We can have the music come from here..." Surely Turps and Ravs knew a good DJ, right? He walked over to the other end of the building, motioning. "We'll set up a barrier here, where we can sit, have our own private space."

Trailing after him, Ross did his best to imagine it. He looked up and around, at the ceiling that was higher than their flat, but not nearly as high as the church's had been. When he tried imagining the lights, he thought of how the floor of the church had lit up when the sun shone through the stained glass. It made him smile, before he tried imagining where they would put a DJ and a bar.

He looked at the space Trott had indicated for their own private space, then pointed at the wall it was beside, "How 'bout here for the bar? Then people can get close, but not TOO close, and it puts drinks further from the door..." When had it become so easy to talk about this? To not care that he was going to be directly responsible for somebody possibly dying? The easy answer was, it hadn't. He still didn't particularly like it, but he'd at least come to terms with the fact Smith needed to do it as much as Sips needed to eat anything in the first place. But coming to terms didn't make it easier.

Trott didn't seem to notice, looking where Ross had indicated. He nodded, chewing his lip for a moment before he smiled. "I like that plan. Just need to set it all up, then!"

"But Trott, how are we paying for it?"

He waved his hand, heading back for the door. "We're not. Nobody uses this building anymore, and we'll be in and out before anybody notices that we don't want noticing."

Ross could only let out a quiet hum, following Trott out. As they left the building behind, he spared a glance at it, wondering what it looked like, back when it was new.

* * *

 

Plenty of planning and some weeks later, music thrummed in the old building. The bodies of anybody who would show up pressed together, dancing in the crowded space. From their roped-off section, Sips, Smith, and Trott watched in mild amazement. They hadn't expected nearly so many people to show up, and had especially not expected any witches or fae to show up. But show up they had, and many had pledged loyalty to the Garbage Court, the fae promising on their very lives.

Not that any fae would be stupid enough to go back on a promise. Promises made were promises kept.

The air of the space changed as Kirin walked in.

All eyes turned, as the music stopped, toward the Storm Court Sidhe Lord. He walked through the crowd with the confidence that came from being a Sidhe Lord, stride purposeful. He made a beeline to the barrier, stopping only when his path was blocked by Ross. "It would be pertinent to step aside, gargoyle."

"What business have you with the Garbage Court?"

"That doesn't concern you." He pointed past Ross to Sips. "It concerns HIM."

Ross gripped his baseball bat, a growl in his throat. "What concerns our king concerns us all. What business have you with the court?"

Kirin let out a frustrated sound, his glamour flickering for a moment. With a movement of his hand, he sent Ross flying to the side. "Oh, get out of my way!"

Trott and Smith stood up, glaring at Kirin. Smith pointed at him, a sneer on his face. "Don't TEST us, Kirin, remember that WE saved YOUR life!"

"And in exchange, I found a substitute that only JUST worked to spare your precious king." He stepped closer, remaining eyes just flickering into view before they were gone again. "I'm not HERE about that, though, I'm here because you are taking fae from my court!"

There was a pause before the three began laughing.

"We're not stealing ANYTHING!" Trott held his hands up, a knife gripped in each. "They came of their OWN free will! All WE'RE doing is promising them a court that doesn't answer to YOU, or hold debts over their heads for eternity!"

Kirin let out a snarl, hands gripping into fists. "Now look here-"

"No, YOU look here." Sips stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You come in here, to OUR party, and throw our gargoyle. You outright attacked him, and all Ross was doing was what he was asked to do! And you're expecting what from us, exactly?" He pulled his hands out, holding his arms open and palms splayed. "For us to welcome you like an old buddy?"

"What I EXPECT is for you to give back the fae you stole from my court!"

He let out a laugh, hands returning to his pockets. "I don't think you get it! They're not yours to take back! They've already pledged their loyalty FREELY to us!"

A crackling filled the air as Kirin glowered at them. "They owe me DEBTS, they are within MY control!"

"If they were REALLY in your control, why are they here?" Sips pulled one hand out, motioning around at the gathered fae and witches. "Why are they pledging loyalty to me, a white bread human? You're clearly lacking in something, or we have something to offer that they want."

"Smith and I have been in this city long enough to know all the major courts still answer to YOU, Kirin." Trott motioned around, indicating not so much the people in the room but the city that surrounded them. "What court DOESN'T answer to you? What court has the balls to deny allegiance to you? They follow you out of FEAR, and we're not afraid of you."

His hands curled into fists, lightning crackling around them. "This is your ONLY warning, do NOT test me and give back what's MINE!"

"We don't WANT to go back to you." Kirin turned in surprise, eyebrows rising as he spied Turps. "You offer help, and the debt you proclaim FOR that help is tenfold more that what SHOULD be owed to you. THEY all found an out from it."

Sips grinned, that easy smile of his. "Yeah, see, between me and Turps, we found a loophole for them to get out of under your thumb. OUR only requirement is a pledge of loyalty for... What was it again, Trott?"

"One year of loyalty, and then they can go do what they want, join a small fledgeling court if they want to, so long as it doesn't answer to the Storm Court." Folding his hands behind his back, Trott leaned foreward as he simultaneously tilted back onto his heels, grinning cheekily at Kirin. "We might be a court made of the bits and bobs nobody wants, but we're not stupid! We've got you at your own game!"

Kirin was seething. His glamour flickered once, twice, then vanished as he let out a frustrated roar. Fae, witches, and plain humans alike dove out of the way in case anything went suddenly much more wrong, not wanting to get hit with an errant spell or anything. But nothing of the sort happened as he turned on his heel stomping off more like a petulant child than a sidhe lord. At the door, Kirin stopped and turned, pointing at Sips and the core of his court, the only four to not flinch. "You had BETTER watch what you do. You may have found a way to circumvent any arguments, but if you step out of line, I WILL come for you all!"

Sips only laughed, waving Kirin away. "Yeah, whatever! Go cry into your diary already!" He turned, going back to his seat, calm as ever. Deep down, though, Sips was afraid. He was VERY afraid, but didn't let it show. Kirin glared at him, then turned and left.

Silence filled the space, as the lights continued to dance and flash.

Sips looked around, frowning, then grabbed his cup, lifting it. "Hey, come on, this is a PARTY! So let's party! Ravsy, a round of drinks on the house!"

With the promise of a free round of alcohol, the party quickly swung back into action. In the VIP section, Sips settled back, one leg crossed over the other. When he glanced at Trott, he could see that he'd been as rattled by Kirin and his threat as Sips had. When he looked to Smith, though, he saw not a rattled and wary face, but one filled with fire and anger. He sighed, then looked to the next fae approaching to offer their year of loyalty.

* * *

 

The flat never looked so inviting, with its too-small space and the barely-big-enough bed. The sun had risen before they had dispersed, the magic of the party, even with is interruption, finally fully letting go of the unknowing humans who had shown up. It was mid-morning before they all stumbled in, bone- and stone-tired from everything.

Trott tugged the curtains of the single window closed, grumbling about how much light it still let in. He rubbed at his face, turning toward the bed. Ross was in the middle, sprawled on his back and, surprising to Trott, passed out asleep. Sips was curling up against his right side, as Sips settled on his left.

"Room for one more, Trott." Sips gave the bed a pat, scooting slightly back from Ross. "Care to slip on in?"

Letting out a pleased hum, Trott went over to the bed, shedding his shoes, trousers, and socks as he went. "With PLEASURE." He climbed over Sips, settling between him and Ross. As Sips hugged him from behind, he could feel the smile against his back.

"Hell of a night."

Trott turned slightly, blinking at Sips. "It was, yes. But worth it."

One eyebrow went up. "Was it? The biggest court in the city is mad at us now."

"Yes it was. We're now the largest INDEPENDENT court in the city." He turned back, nestling back into Sips' arms. "Congratulations, you're now king of a chunk of an entire city."

Sips let out a quiet laugh into Trott's shoulder. "And I'm with my three favorite people IN the entire city, so I call that a win-win. Now go to sleep, I'm tired as FUCK."

On the other side of Ross, Smith sat up, eyes squeezed shut. "So am I, so will you two KINDLY shut up so we can all sleep like a rock like Ross is?"

"But Smiffy, he IS a rock!"

"You know what I mean!" He flopped back down, pressing closer to Ross' sleeping form. His only other motion was to lift one arm and flip both Sips and Trott off as they laughed, before that, too, tucked in for sleep.

"Go to sleep, Sips."

"Will do." He sat up long enough to press a kiss to Trott's temple, before he lay back down and went to sleep. Trott spared him a glance, then nestled his face into Ross' shoulder, slipping off to sleep as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I worked on this forever, and it's not even the one I've been working on the longest. But here it is! Woo! Also, PLEASE let me know if I need to add a tag!


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